For the Love of a Child
by xEssentialSoulx
Summary: The Count's youngest daughter brings back memories of his daughter, Ingrid. One-Shot Rated T for character death. Please Review. AU.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except for Astra. Astra means Divine Beauty btw :)

Young Dracula

For the Love of a Child

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Count Dracula sat on his throne, vanished into his thoughts . What was he supposed to do now? Vlad refused to communicate with him. In fact, Vlad is acting like he doesn't even exist at all. Moreover, Vlad blamed him for what occurred to his oldest child, Ingrid. It wasn't his fault what happened to her, he never pressured her to do it. Ingrid, the stupid girl, executed it to herself. How is that his fault!?

"Daddy?" a small voice of his youngest child floated to his ears, but he presumed to ignore it.

"Daddy?" the voice came again. Once again, he continued to mutter to himself, ignoring the small child.

"What's this then?" Vlad's voice on the other hand captured the Count's attention.

"Vladi, you're back!" the Count tolled in happily, clapping his hands together.

"I understand how it is, Dad." Vlad said, the anger that erupted from his voice caused the Count to freeze, "You are ignoring her, just as you did Ingrid! Are you determined that she suffers…

Vlad's voice thundered with indignation as he seized his father by the throat and thrust him up against the wall, "Ingrid's fate because of your negligence!"

"STOP! VLAD STOP!" her terrified voice caused Vlad to look at her. His glowing red eyes slowly dimmed, the grip on his father's throat loosened.

"Of course…" his voice softened, as the Count dropped to the floor. Vlad lifted the little girl up into his arms and smiled at her. "Astra."

"You dare to…" the Count snarled .

"SILENCE!" Vlad boomed, "If Astra says to stop, we stop!"

The Count gazed at the tiny girl that clung to Vlad. He could recognize the sorrow behind her eyes, the tears that threatened her lashes. In that instant, the little girl vanished and three year old Ingrid appeared in her place.

"What did I do wrong, Daddy?" Ingrid's docile voice haunted him, "Why don't you love me?" He could feel a searing phantom pain, swelling within his breast. Within a blink the Count was in his crypt. The illustration, Ingrid had made for him when she was five, rested on the little table by his casket along with a final letter she had written him. The letter that he could never bring himself to open. All he could do was stare at the picture, in traced. He could see Ingrid's beaming little face. She had been so proud of her drawing.

What had he done? He had belittled her over it, telling her it was totally awry, and that there was no way her fangs would ever be bigger than his, and how atrocious the drawing had been all around. That look that crossed her face, at his devastating words. Was the same forlorn expression Astra had on her young face when he had ignored her today.

"Renfield!" the Count bellowed, "I demand a drink… NOW!" The drink did not savor of sweet nectar as it commonly did, this time it's flavor was nauseatingly bitter and foul. He hurled the crystal across the room, its millions of tiny fragments scattered the floor as it collided against the wall, leaving a splattered trail of blood that glided leisurely downward on the exterior.

"Oh, Ingrid," his voice was strained and anemic, "What had I done to you?"

The Count refused to leave the crypt. He could not confront his son or his newest daughter, he could not allow the Prince of Darkness to be seen by them in such a way. He was meant to protect his children, he was their father! He managed to get along quite well protecting Vlad, but, when it came to his eldest daughter, Ingrid, it was despondently catastrophic.

He remembered her final words to him, as she pulled to open the double doors, "I love you, daddy." He had only heard them in his mind, but the desperation in her voice terrified him. By the time he had reached the double doors of the school, Ingrid was already stepped out of his reach.

"Ingrid, what are you doing!?" he demanded, trying to conceal the alarm in his voice, "Get back inside."

The smolder that was coming from her physique was becoming more than he could endure, "Let's talk about this Ingrid,come inside." The sun was overtaking her, she was diminishing and sweltering by the second, she was on her knees, engulfed by all the searing smoke.

"INGRID!" the terror in Vlad's voice, would have revived the beat in the Count's icy un-beating withered heart; if the vision of his daughter had not already reignited it. The Count seized Vlad, as he tried to blast past him, the Count held his son close to him as his son pleaded to be released.

"No, Vlad," the torment in the Count's voice could no longer be obscured from his son. Ingrid's heartrending shriek of anguish sent the Count erupting from the safety of the school into the bright sunshine with resolute urgency. The safety of everyone else, including himself dissolved from his consciousness, as the daylight kissed his sensitive skin with sizzling lesions, caught his pale flesh ablaze.

"It's alright, Ingrid," He whispered as he attempted to shield her from the sun's rays with his cape. "Daddy's here now."

As he slipped his arms beneath his daughter's flailing frame, he could feel her body start to dissolve on his fingertips, "It's going to be alright Ingrid, I've got you. Don't do this!"

However, it was too late. By the time he gained the shelter of the schoolhouse, the only thing that remained in his gloved hands was the ash of his eldest child.

"Ingrid…," The Count plummeted to his knees, and held the remaining ash tightly in his palms…

Not long after his daughter's demise, Astra, his youngest came into his life. Vlad and Wolfy were instantly very protective of her. If she wanted to go outside Wolfy never left her side, he was taken with her as he had been with Ingrid. Vlad was never too far from her either.

The Count in the other hand, whenever he looked at her, memories of Ingrid flooded his consciousness and he could not bring himself to gaze in her direction. So in a sense he was involuntarily disregarding her presence most of the time. If she were ever to need something he had instructed Renfield to give her whatever she required.

He placed the picture back on the small table adjacent to his coffin and was plagued by haunting nightmares, as he was very night, since Ingrid's death, of her tortured screams. He was awoken by a voice, that for a moment he had believed it was Ingrid's.

"Daddy, the Slayer's are after me." However, after a moment he recognized the voice belonged to his youngest child, Astra.

He raised up to tell her to go back to her own bed, that she was the monster in the night and she should act like it! But, when he looked at her all he could see was three year old Ingrid, clinging tightly to her stuffed bear, "I'm afraid, Daddy."

The Count sighed, and slid over a little, "Come on then, Astra." He lifted her into his casket and laid her on his chest. At his command lid gently sealed about them. He found himself subconsciously winding his arms protectively around her keeping her close to him.

"I love you, daddy." She whispered groggily as he suppressed the urge to place his lips into her dark hair. The tears threatened his lashes, as his daughter slept soundly against him. At that moment he was determined to be there for his youngest, even if she was a girl, no one was going to tell him how he was to treat her. The council could kiss his cape!

"I love you too…" he whispered softly as the tears crept over their threshold and drifted softly down his cheeks, "Ingrid."

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There you have it. As of right now this is to be a One-Shot but if you guys want a full story please let me now. Please Review!


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